Chapter 17: The Hungry Tiger Comes Calling (Part Two)

All four henchmen stood up together, surrounding Zhou Nan in the center. Zhou Nan's heart quailed; from what he knew, Teng Chao’guo had caused quite a stir in junior high over a fight. Rumor had it that he’d swung a pickaxe used on construction sites and struck someone right in the side, mangling one of the guy’s kidneys. If it weren’t for Teng Chao’guo’s family connections, he might have ended up behind bars.

Of the four so-called Heavenly Kings, Zhou Nan had met all but the senior. Liu Shufeng could fight well, and Brother Dalong was even tougher, but despite their skill, neither exuded that venomous air of utter disregard for human life and dignity that Teng Chao’guo did.

Nevertheless, things had come to this, and Zhou Nan resolved to kill two birds with one stone: settle the score with the new kid and deflect blame for the missing cigarettes. So, summoning his courage, he kept up the act. “I know I messed up, but Brother Guo, you can’t lay it all on me. Someone else is behind this!”

“Sabotage?”

“Exactly, Brother Guo! Some punk deliberately lured Zheng Fangtou over, set it up so he’d search me! Zheng Fangtou has never come to our dorm at that time before—this was premeditated, and it was aimed right at me. Brother Guo, everyone at Phoenix High knows you get your smokes from me. He’s just using me as cover—I’d bet anything he’s really after you.”

“After me?” Teng Chao’guo paused, then sneered, cold and contemptuous. “Who? Which fool has a death wish and dares to target me?”

“There’s a new guy in our class. I checked—he transferred from one of the advanced classes.”

“Heh, Zhou Nan, do you take me for a fool?” Teng Chao’guo slapped Zhou Nan’s face—not too hard but not gentle either, the sound crisp and clear. “A bookworm demoted from the best class is after me? I’m telling you, if it weren’t for your brother’s sake, you—”

Three more slaps landed, each heavier than the last.

“Brother Guo, I swear I’m not lying!” Zhou Nan gritted his teeth, swearing vehemently, “I swear to heaven, that guy did it on purpose—no doubt about it!”

Teng Chao’guo couldn’t care less. “Then tell me, who is this guy, and why would he want to mess with me?”

“As for why he’s after you, I really don’t know. But I asked around all morning and finally figured out who he is.” Zhou Nan glanced around, then leaned in to whisper, “He was originally from Advanced Class Seven. His name is Shi Tiexin.”

“Who?” Teng Chao’guo’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. The four henchmen all paused for a moment before suddenly bursting into laughter.

“Shi Tiexin? Ha ha ha! Good, so it’s him!” A dangerous glint flashed in Teng Chao’guo’s eyes. “That punk… is looking for death!”

Seeing Teng Chao’guo’s reaction, Zhou Nan allowed himself a subtle smile.

Just as expected—it worked.

From here on, he wouldn’t need to lift a finger; others would take the vanguard. Whether Shi Tiexin was truly formidable would be for Teng Chao’guo to find out. If the kid proved tough, let them both fight to exhaustion, and Zhou Nan could seize his chance. If he was just all show and no substance, well, he’d see to it that Shi Tiexin was put through the wringer.

Zhou Nan was quite pleased with his own scheming.

Shi Tiexin, on the other hand, was lost in gloomy calculations.

He had the manuals, the supplementary records, a quiet environment and the time to cultivate—and even a mentor, whose level far exceeded Shi Tiexin’s expectations.

Class 28 lived up to its reputation as the “trash class”; even the homeroom teacher paid it no mind, barely glancing at the new student before moving on, saying nothing to Shi Tiexin. Still, the teachers here were not incompetent. Each had their own standing elsewhere and seemed indifferent to the students’ attention, delivering their lessons perfunctorily yet adequately. Not enthusiastic, but not negligent either.

Shi Tiexin could hardly understand a thing, but he recognized their competence—a patch for a weak spot in his own cultivation.

Yet he remained troubled.

The reason was simple: he realized his cultivation of the Heart Technique faced a critical obstacle. If he couldn’t resolve it, his progress would stall completely. The problem was—

His level was simply too low!

Comprehensive manuals? He didn’t even meet the prerequisites for training.

A skilled mentor? No matter how well they taught, it was useless to him!

Most here were already at the third stage of Heart Technique. He himself had only three items at the first stage barely up to standard. In other words, the material on the second stage was only just tolerable for him, and the third stage might as well have been written in an alien script.

He’d tried to use the supplementary records, unable to resist the temptation, but nothing happened, no matter how hard he tried. The problems in those records were so far beyond him he couldn’t even grasp what they meant, let alone try to solve them.

A towering stack of supplementary records sat before him, and he couldn’t use a single one. Shi Tiexin was so anxious he nearly scratched his head raw. It was as if he’d unexpectedly inherited billions abroad, only to find himself unable to access a single cent.

Throughout the first period of math and the second of Chinese, Shi Tiexin paid no attention to the lessons. Of course, he knew he wouldn’t understand them anyway, so he gave up and focused his energy on finding a solution to his predicament.

After much thought, Shi Tiexin realized his only option was to start over from the beginning, filling in the gaps of the foundational manuals and practicing step by step.

From the memories he’d absorbed, he deduced that what he needed most wasn’t the curriculum for first-year students at Phoenix High, but content from elementary school.

The first stage of basic mathematics was called “Numbers and Operations,” and the first stage of basic language arts was “Reading and Writing.” In other words, elementary math and elementary language! So what he needed most was to catch up with elementary school textbooks and somehow get his hands on supplementary records for the lower grades.

Only at that level would the material suit his needs.

Yet…

Did this mean his abilities here were comparable to a seven- or eight-year-old child? No, in those memories, the other consciousness always scored perfect marks at that age—a double honors student at least. But he himself, with only one passing score, would be at the very bottom of a primary school class, and the upper graders would trounce him in an instant.

How shameful!

Good thing Old Iron had a thick skin, or he’d already be blushing purple with embarrassment.

Just as Shi Tiexin was wracking his brains for a way to get some elementary-level supplementary records, the bell rang to end the second class. The Chinese teacher didn’t linger a minute, leaving briskly, and the students burst out of the classroom like wild horses.

Suddenly, a startled cry rang out. A boy, panic-stricken, dashed back inside, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Black Hand Hungry Tiger is coming!”